10

EVERLY'S POV

I had never felt this dangerous in a dress.

It was pitch black. It fit me like a second skin, showing off every curve I’d spent three years hiding under kitchen aprons and oversized sweaters. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror of the Chandler Estate. My hair was swept up in a tight, high bun, and my neck was bare. No necklaces, no distractions. Just the ruby ring on my finger. That was the only statement I needed to make tonight.

"The car is waiting," Steve’s voice came from the doorway.

I turned. He was wearing a tuxedo that probably cost more than a suburban house. Steve didn't tell me I looked beautiful. He wasn't the type for cheap compliments. He just looked me up and down with dark, heavy eyes and gave a single, sharp nod.

"Don't shake on stage," he said quietly. "I don’t like partners who hesitate."

"I’m not shaking because I’m scared, Steve," I said, walking past him. "I’m shaking because I can’t wait to see Spencer’s face."

---

The Apex Gala was held at the most expensive hotel in downtown Chicago. As soon as our car pulled up, the paparazzi’s camera flashes were blinding. For years, I had been the "accessory"—standing three feet behind Spencer, holding his bag while he preened for the cameras. Now, Steve stepped out first, walked around, and offered me his hand.

The moment my heels hit the red carpet, the whispers started.

"Is that Everly? Knox’s ex-wife?"

"With Steve Sterling? No way."

I didn't look left or right. I walked with my head up, my hand locked firmly around Steve’s arm. I could feel the hard muscle beneath his jacket. He was my anchor in this sea of vultures.

Inside the ballroom, I looked for my target immediately. And there he was. Spencer Knox.

He was standing near the bar, clutching a glass of champagne like he still had a right to be there. He was wearing his best suit, but I could tell it was too big for him now. He’d lost weight. His face was sallow, and he kept wiping sweat from his forehead even though the AC was blasting. Beside him was Hailey, looking like a clown in a bright pink dress and way too much jewelry. They looked like two people trying to convince themselves they weren't bankrupt.

"Look at him," Steve whispered in my ear. His breath was warm, smelling of mint and a hint of scotch. "He actually rented that tuxedo. I know because my tailor told me some loser tried to hock his watch just to afford a rental for tonight."

I almost laughed. "Pathetic."

We walked toward the VIP table in the front row—right next to Spencer’s. The moment Spencer saw me, his glass nearly slipped from his hand. His jaw dropped. He stared at me, then at Steve’s hand on my waist.

"Everly?" his voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief.

I gave him a thin smile—the kind you give a waiter who brought the wrong order. "Hi, Spencer. Hi, Hailey. Glad to see you could still get access. I thought the guest list had been cleaned up."

"You—" Hailey started to snap, probably wanting to scream at me, but she shut up the moment she saw Steve’s cold stare. She was terrified of her own brother.

"Sit down, Spencer," Steve said with a tone of command that made Spencer’s knees buckle into his chair. "Enjoy the show. Because after tonight, you’re never getting an invite to a room like this again."

---

The event started with the usual boring speeches from investors. I sat there, twisting the ruby ring, waiting for my moment. I could feel Spencer’s eyes on me the entire time. He looked like he wanted to run over and grab me, but Steve’s presence beside me kept him paralyzed.

Finally, the MC called my name.

"And now, a few words from the new majority shareholder of the Chandler Group and the owner of the Knox Industries assets... Miss Everly Chandler."

The room went dead silent. Spencer froze. It was like he’d just been told the world was ending. I stood up. Steve gave my lower back a firm, brief squeeze before I walked onto the stage. The spotlight was hot, and it felt right. I stood behind the mic, looking out at the most powerful people in Chicago.

"Thank you," I said. My voice was steady. "A lot of people have asked how it feels to return to the industry after a three-year... retirement. My answer is simple: It feels like coming home after living in a dumpster for far too long."

I glanced at Spencer’s table. He looked down, his face turning a deep, humiliated red.

"Knox Industries is gone. As of tonight, its assets have been absorbed into the Chandler Group. To the partners who felt burned by the previous management’s... incompetence and lack of morals... I’m here to fix that."

The applause was deafening. These people had no loyalty. Once they knew Spencer was down, they lined up to cheer for the winner.

"And one more thing," I said, my smile widening. "There’s been a lot of talk about my relationship with Steve Sterling."

I motioned to Steve. He stood up and walked onto the stage with a relaxed, predatory confidence. He stood beside me, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. I could feel his steady heartbeat.

"I’m not just Steve’s business partner," I said, looking directly at Spencer’s watery, rage-filled eyes. "As of this morning, I am his wife. We officially registered our marriage today."

I held my left hand high. The ruby ring caught the stage lights, sharp and crimson.

The room exploded. Reporters rushed the stage. In the chaos, I saw Spencer stand up. He shouted something—probably a curse—but he was drowned out by the applause. Security moved in instantly, grabbing Spencer and Hailey by their arms and dragging them toward the exit for causing a scene.

I watched him get hauled away like trash. His rental suit caught on a chair, ripping at the shoulder. It was the best thing I'd ever seen.

Once Spencer was out of sight, Steve pulled me closer. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "Satisfied now, Mrs. Sterling?" he whispered.

"I’m just getting started, Steve," I whispered back.

---

Steve led me off stage through a back exit to avoid the press. We stepped into a private elevator. As soon as the doors hissed shut, the tension we’d been holding in public snapped.

Steve pinned me against the elevator wall. He locked me in with his arms on either side of my head. He didn't answer with words. Instead, he leaned down and bit the skin of my neck—not a soft, romantic kiss, but a sharp, possessive claim that forced a gasp out of my lungs. My back hit the elevator’s cold metal wall, and I felt his hands slide up to my waist, his grip bruisingly firm.

"You're mine, Everly," he rasped against my skin, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. "And tonight, you made sure every single person in this city knows it."

The elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors hissed open, revealing the dim, quiet hallway of the Presidential Suite. Steve didn't wait. He grabbed my hand, pulling me out with a stride that was wide and impatient.

I wasn't thinking about Spencer anymore. I wasn't thinking about revenge or my father’s company. I wanted to feel what it was like to actually be taken by the man who had just helped me burn my ex-husband’s life to the ground.

Steve threw the door to the suite open, kicking it shut behind us with a heavy thud. He didn't even turn on the lights. He just pinned me against the dark wood of the door, his expensive tuxedo jacket already discarded on the floor. His eyes weren't cold anymore—they were filled with a raw, predatory hunger that made my skin prickle.

He cupped my face, his thumb pressing hard against my bottom lip until I gasped. "The Gala is over for them, Everly," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "But for us, the night is just getting started."

I reached up, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him closer until there wasn't a breath of space left between us.

"Then stop talking, Steve," I whispered back, my heart hammering against my ribs. "And show me."